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THE ETERNAL LAUGHTER 
AND OTHER POEMS 



1 



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I 



THE ETERNAL 
LAUGHTER 

AMD OTHER POEMS BY 
.^r^^,. STAR LING BURGESS 

BY JULIAN HAWTHORNE 



With drawings by 
Edward Lyne Gr^ 
Edmund H Garrett 



B05T0N-WB CLARKE GOMPANY 

LONDON— C D CAZENOVE 0> SON 

MCMIli 



ii 



^>\1 



THE ETERNAL 
LAUGHTER 

AND OTHER POEMS BY 
W STARLING BURGESS 
WITH AN INTRODUCTION 
BY JULIAN HAWTHORNE 



With drawings by 
Edward Lyne Cr^ 
Edmund H Garrett 



BOSTON -'^ a CLATlKk COMPANY 

LONDON— C D CAZENOVE CH SON 

MCMUl 



Copyright, 1903 by 
W. STARLING BURGESS 



Entered at Stationers* Hall 



mt rt im^ 
^ y :i ^. 







The University Press, Cambridge, U.S. 



INTRODUCTION 



INTRODUCTION 




OST of our contemporary 
poetry is first seen in our 
magazines ; and this may be 
one reason why it is so uni- 
formly meritorious (as regards 
form and intelHgence), and why almost 
every line of it might have been written 
by the same person. For the magazine 
editor is compelled to restrict his criti- 
cisms of the product submitted to him 
to the body of it rather than to its soul ; 
since, however desirable it may be that 
the latter should be right, it is indispensa- 
ble that, for magazine purposes, the 
former should be correct. The natural 
consequence has been that the soul has 
gradually disappeared from the common 
run of magazine poetry, while the body 



has attained a perfection of form and 
adornment which the great poets might 
equal, but could not surpass. And, inas- 
much as fashion rules in the outward 
accoutrements of verse, as well as of 
society on parade, it has followed that the 
great majority of magazine verses bear so 
strong a resemblance one to another that, 
as aforesaid, nearly all of them might 
have been composed and indited by the 
self-same poet. They are very nice, but 
they are very monotonous ; and their most 
cordial admirer can hardly hope that they 
will much outlast the physical substance 
of the medium in which they appear. 

Real poetry belongs to another cate- 
gory. It is always the product of real 
emotion felt by the individual who writes 
it. It is the record of his personal and 
independent discoveries in the realm of 
feeling and thought. In so far, therefore, 



\ 



it creates a new world ; nothing just like 
it was ever before seen, for the same rea- 
son that no two persons are just alike. 
Nevertheless, if the new poet's mission is 
authentic and lasting, this new world 
which he reveals must recommend itself 
to the reader by proving itself to be a 
discovery in the consciousness of that 
reader himself; it must not be alien ; in 
telling the writer's secrets, it must tell the 
reader's as well. Its charm, its grasp, 
and its permanent value lie in the fact that 
the new writer, in admitting us to his inti- 
macy, endows us with a fresh insight into 
ourselves ; these emotions of his, his pas- 
sions, truths, and moods, have ever been 
our own, but only at his instance did we 
fully awake to their significance, relation, 
and value. 

Another quality the real poet must needs 
have — the instinct of beauty. For that 



(as distinct from mere prettiness and the 
musical jingle) he must go deep. The 
enduring harmonies are elemental ; they 
abide at the root of things. They instil 
a joy which thrills from the very heart of 
nature to our own. They make us rich 
and happy. We say of them that they 
are the flower and fragrance of truth. 
They refine us and exalt us. They set 
our feet again on the true path, and give 
us delicious glimpses of unimaginable 
good. They are the warrant of human 
integrity. They make orthodox concep- 
tions of Heaven appear cold and barren 
in comparison. There is a vital fire in 
them which arms us against fate. 

The authentic poet, too, must trust, at 
any cost, to his inspiration. When he is 
vibrating to the impulses of the god, he 
must ask no questions, but obey. Things 
will be told to him which are above the 



height and below the sounding of his com- 
mon understanding. When he has been 
let down once more to his normal level, he 
questions these revelations as another 
might ; but he must yield to them. He 
will be charged with obscurity ; but he 
must content himself with the assurance 
that certain heights of feeHng and percep- 
tion do not lend themselves to mortal lan- 
guage, except in hints and allusions ; they 
will not be explicit. The reader who has 
a soul for these things will understand ; 
the others must wait, and, if they will, 
complain. There is a Fourth Dimension 
in these matters, which we must com- 
pound with as best we may. Such 
obscurities may be the upper rungs of the 
ladder which stretches from earth to 
Heaven. 

But I will not longer dwell on these 
general considerations ; my function is to 



speak for a new poet, who here, for the 
first time, addresses his contemporaries. 
Poet I call him, advisedly. He has much 
to learn in the way of fashionable tailor- 
ing ; but for those able to care, in this 
age, for the naked beauty of nymphs and 
demigods, he can say something. 1 must 
not be coarsely misunderstood ; the deli- 
cacy and refinement of his inspiration are 
extreme. But the soul of his theme has 
so commanded him that he has often been 
heedless of the technique of form. The 
divine pressure of the message has often 
caused his mortal tongue to stammer in 
its delivery. It would be easy to correct 
these lapses or negligencies ; but at the 
risk of compromising their individuality — 
of lowering their spirit to the conventional. 
Rather, I rejoice in them, as one rejoices 
in the awkwardness and naivete of vir- 
ginity. Growth will adjust these surface 



inharmonies. Meanwhile, they are the 
warrant that here is one who writes in 
response to an intensity of vision and emo- 
tion, pressing intolerably from within for 
expression. Truth and beauty, genuinely 
perceived, will not stay in the heart, but 
demand to be released, because they 
belong to the greater heart of humanity. 
It is only the brain that can keep its own 
counsels. The poet knows that what is 
given to him is far too precious for per- 
sonal ownership. It must out. 

The substance of the book is the love 
of a lover for his beloved. No stpry is 
told. In one short piece after another 
the moods of the lover are reflected ; and 
all of them wear the shadowy vestments 
of night, twilight, and dawn ; the sun has 
not yet risen, or he has set. Love in 
eclipse : love waiting : love remember- 
ing : — these states of emotion, and the 



insight they inspire into life, nature, and 
the Creative purposes, are the features of 
the theme. The phases are briefly 
treated ; but they are not to be briefly 
dismissed by the reader; the thoughts and 
feelings embodied are long and deep, and 
sometimes, in their simplicity, abstruse 
and subtle. Ever and anon, they are 
imperfectly conveyed. But, constantly, 
the right w^ord blooms out with no more 
effort than a flow^er blooms, with satisfy- 
ing felicity. In this respect, and in a rich 
beauty of imagery, the writer brings 
Keats to mind ; and the conception of 
others of his verses suggests a fellowship 
with William Blake. Yet he is far from 
being a poet of echoes ; he stands on his 
own feet, and his head brushes his own 
stars. It is poetry that stirs within him, 
not the poets. 

It is to poets, therefore, rather than to 



4 



the general public, that his book will 
make its first appeal. They can appre- 
ciate and extenuate ; welcome what is 
given, and wait hopefully for what may 
be to come. That which is to come will 
doubtless reach a far wider audience. 
The essentials of poetry are already 
here ; if, now, the writer, without forfeit- 
ing his individual voice and impulse, can 
achieve greater perfection of expression, 
he can add a new page to the Golden 
Book of time. 

November 5, 1903. 



CONTENTS 



Page 



The Eternal Laughter 7 

Waiting 8 

She hears Strange Sound and knows 

not what it is 10 

Good-Night 12 

She sleeps upon the Sea .... 13 

Night and Sleep 14 

To a Flower once worn upon her 

Breast 15 

Her Being 16 

Thou art the Miracle 17 

The Vision of the Ant ..... 18 

Earth's Insufficiency 19 

What art Thou? 21 



Paob 

Blinded with Thine Eyes .... 22 

The Flower and the Sea-Shell . . 23 

The Night 24 

Everywhere 25 

The Wish 26 

The Snowstorm 27 

A Prayer 28 

Before the Dawn . 29 

Thy Coming in the Night .... 31 

A Nightmare 33 

Ave Cometa 34 

Let there he no Change .... 35 

The Window of Sleep 36 

Thou art my Light 37 

Vain Speech 38 

The Wind speaks to Her . . . . 39 

Change 40 

The Mystic 41 

My Little Girl 43 



Paok 

Whither?. 44 

Where art Thou ? 45 

The Wind 46 

Autumn 47 

The Song of Nature 48 

Parted 49 

The Sleep of Death 51 

Regret . 52 

Is it Well with Her? 53 

Thy Hair 54 

Shadow Land 5S 

Sunrise at Sea 57 

Fair Earth, Farewell ..... 58 

Death? 59 



THE ETERNAL LAUGHTER 




THE ETERNAL LAUGHTER 

O, there came a dream of 
wonder: — 

Beyond the calling wind I 
sped, 

Through space from which 
all light had fled 
I passed from earth and life asunder. 
Alone, in the eternal vastness, 
I floated from the cloud of time, 
Till, in that mystic space sublime, 
It faded in a distant fastness. 
When, from the gray heaven afar. 
Thou deep eternal King of all. 
Thy words unmasked, — to me Thy call 
Sounded o'er path of sun and star. 
Then, veiled in mysterious spell. 
It seemed Thy thought grew clear to me. 
It seemed, ah God, I laughed with Thee, 
Father, I knew Thee then so well. 



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*=Ss*-^ 




WAITING 

AITING by the shadowed 
road, 

Where the last of sunset 
glowed, 

I watched the fainting twi- 
hght go, 
Saw the trembling starlight grow. 
Felt the rising arm of Night 
Round me wrap her mantle quite ; 
All beneath her shrouding seize, 
With her darkness drown the trees. 
There I knew the death of Day 
And the Night's mysterious sway, — 
Marked the shadows climb and fall 
From a waving pine tree tall. 
Heard a sound within the wood, 
Felt my heart sink where I stood, 
Saw the flowers, tipped with gold, 
At a footfall, lo ! unfold — 
Heard the insects cease to sing, 
8 



Guessed the listening of each thing. 
Then the flowers of the night, 
Lo, the darkness, swift in flight. 
All the stars above thee, sweet. 
And the earth beneath thy feet. 
In the glory of thy way 
Spread their wings and passed away. 



9 



f-rj^ 



SHE HEARS STRANGE SOUND 
AND KNOWS NOT WHAT IT IS 

Ig^^^j WEETHEART, amid the 
I^^^^^S forest, in the night, 
^i^SRa Didst thou once hear a sound — 
some branches break? 
And didst thou question then 






what might be there? 
Know, dear, that thou art unattended 

never. 
When all thy beauty once was made, and 

passed 
From heaven to earth, then wert thou far 

too fair 
And exquisite to wander through this 

world 
Alone, a prey to all the things that live. 
So God, thy father, sent with thee to 

earth 
A troop of spirits and kind creatures 

strange, 

10 



To guard all paths on which thy fairy feet 
Should roam, and shield thee from the 

envious beasts 
Of land and sea, made wild and desperate 
With thine enchantment and dear ways 

of thee. 
So, sweet, if in the night, whilst gazing up. 
Enchanting with thine eyes some envied 

star, 
That star is of a sudden lost to thee, 
And shadows from dark, sweeping wings 

pass by, — 
Or if again thou hearest footfalls dim, 
And crushing sounds within the forest 

black. 
Be not afraid, my fairest, close thine eyes, 
'T is but the passing of thy guarding host. 



11 




GOOD-NIGHT 

lOOD-NIGHT, sweetheart, 

I '11 dream I am 

Some airy spirit of the dark, 

That within thy chamber, 
dear, 

May float as the breath of a flower; 
Or like some passing bird of night, 
Rest on black wings to gaze at thee 
In starlight sleeping on thy bed. 
Thine eyelids closed upon thine eyes 
Of glory, and thy hair in floods 
Of dark and changing gold, at rest 
About thy sad and fairest face. 
And on thy breast, so holy white. 
Beside thee exquisitely stealing, 
One trusting hand, whose tender touch 
Would turn the bHnding pain from Hell, 
And from the hollow eyes of Death 
Would verily draw tears. 



12 



^* d^Ai o* ««dA^ 4tstfex*^o-»a% afevsig sx»4\ia** 




SHE SLEEPS UPON THE SEA 

N climbing shadows of the sea, 
To-night, sweetheart, shall be 

thy bed. 
And through the green, dark 
waters led 
Shall glide sea-children then to thee. 
The cheek of roaring wind and sea 
Shall be thy pillow, and the waves, 
With voices gleaned from surging caves 
Through lips of foam shall sing to thee. 
The stars of night shall serve thee for thy 

candle's spark. 
And, sweet, the hull of night shall be thy 
cradle dark. 



13 



A—r^^. 




NIGHT AND SLEEP 

HE shades of the night, from 

that region 
Beyond the red sunset of 

flame, 
Bear in their deep fringes a 
legion 
Of ghosts without name ; 
Of ghosts, yea, an infinite number, 
Strange beings that know not the day, 
Sowing love or tares into slumber. 
Then fading away. 

O welcome, Night ! breathe from thy lips 
Thy breath, on whose wings I am free. 
That fans not the sail of tall ships. 
Nor stirs the deep sea ; 
The vapor dissolving the hardness 
Of all which we meet in the light ; 
The potion instilled with thy sweetness 
And magic, dark Night. 



14 



N/- 



u^- 



:f<-f. 




TO A FLOWER ONCE WORN 
UPON HER BREAST 

LOWER, where art thou 
now, that once 

Lay on her breast? Had not 
her glory 

Sunk me in deep forgetfulness 
Of all, I should have prayed her then 
For thee, happy flower. But with 
Thy mother earth, and all the air 
That with thy breathing fragrant was ; 
With the mighty sun that gave thee 
Life, and the night that gave thee rest, 
With these miracles — little flower, 
Yea, thou also, faded from my thought 
When she drew near, and filled mine eyes. 



15 



HER BEING 

HERE is truth within thine 
eyes 

The world hath never taught ; 

All doth tell of thee within 

That is ahout thee wrought: 
The glory of a star, 
The beauty of a flower wild, 
The mercy of God, 
The sweetness of a little child. 




16 



THOU ART THE MIRACLE 

H, sweet, — 

Than holding all His thun- 

drous sea, 
More glory were it for God's 
Hand 
To hold thy feet. 




17 



THE VISION OF THE ANT 

T was not light discordant 
Of waves with untuned crests; 




Nor light of moon, nor stars, 
But that of all infinity, 
Glided athwart the leaflet 
bars, — 
The dawn-beam of eternity. 

A vision ne'er by living seen. 
Nor e'en by the good in death. 
Of form most like a fairy queen, 
Of substance of the rose's breath. 

Far in the starry sky 
Waved ringlets, all of golden brown, 
Within whose silken frame did lie 
Her face, in a rose-leaf gown. 



18 




EARTH S INSUFFICIENCY 

RAPT in the falling veil of 

night, 
Worlds unknown sweep about 

me ; 
The shadow lands of ghostly 
light 
Deep in mystery greet me. 
Swiftly grow sight and hearing faint, 
As the forms of earthly things, 
Passing confused without restraint, 
Waver as borne forth by wings. 
Time is no more, nor place ; 
Dark regions all, with spectres rife, — 
Gray worlds that fill not space. 
That pass beyond this bounded life ! 
Life, the slave of the hour long, 
Can it give the deed unwrought. 
Cancel the memory of wrong. 
Or ever reach the end we sought? 
One little hour of joy and hope, — 

19 



$m 




'Tis gone. Canst thou, Earth Spirit, 

In all thy power's scope. 

From time's unturning tide recall it? 

Or at thy will the end require 

Of all that guides the falling rain, 

And propels the stars of fire 

Through the ethereal domain ? 



20 



WHAT ART THOU? 

HAT art thou? 
None can the answer lend — 
That answer without end. 
The sea and the silent forest, 
All the world, can but suggest ; 
For thy shadows are the night skies, 
And the stars of night thine eyes. 




21 




BLINDED WITH THINE EYES 
WEETHE ART, I love thee, 

I can say no more, 
For I am blinded with thine 

eyes, and with 
Thy voice am dumb, and lulled 
beyond all sleep, 
All death beyond, with thy strange fra- 
grance, sweet; 
And though it seemed the glory could 

not last. 
Yet, in each moment, dear, some new 

sweet thing 
I learned of thee, — some message from 

thine eyes 
Of wonder, some ecstacy in the form of 

thee, 
Which is more fair than all of loveliness. 



22 




THE FLOWER AND THE 
SEA-SHELL 

N a dream I found a flower 
Growing in a woodland bower; 
In the dream I plucked the 

flower 
I From the fading, darksome 
bower. 

Then I, dreaming, from the woodland 
Journeyed stilly to the sealand, 
And upon a girted headland 
Found a sea-shell in the dreamland. 

Sweet, the flower was thy breath, 
And the sea-shell was thy voice. 



23 




EVERYWHERE 

HROUGH the dark-walled 

wood I wander, 
By the leaf that lisps in the 

night-breath tender, 
And songs that listless wings 
of insects render, — 
Thou art here ! 

Where, thundering from ocean's flume, 

Far flies the foaming spume. 

And the waters of the crest seethe to the 

hollow's gloom, 
Thy spirit dwells. 

Still, in the soundless space of stars, 
Where comets glide with golden bars. 
All unrivalled, all beloved, in those stars 
Thou livest. 



25 




THE NIGHT 

'ER the threshold of the West 

Hath closed the gate of night. 

O wondrous night, where hast 
thou gone, 

Ne'er more to sing thy fair, 
sweet song? 
Or art thou dead, O fairest night, 
And laid within the tombed past. 
Thy light alone in dreams to last? 
Ah, no, thou art within a fortress, 
Hidden in the mist of time. 
Whose towers o'er the clouds I '11 see. 
When the hill of Death I climb. 



24 



THE SNOWSTORM 




O majestical and wondrous, 

All silent fell the snow ; 

It seemed the bearded Face of 

God 
Did bend o'er those below. 



27 



THE WISH 

HERE may I forever dwell, 

In the cloud-breath of thy 
lips; 

In the starlight of thine eyes; 

For thou art the life eternal, 
And thy brow is the moonlit skies. 




26 




BEFORE THE DAWN 

YSTIC hour of the day and 

night, 

Ere death of dark, ere yet is 
light, 

Night's dying breath, and 
birth of day, 
Ere dreams and sleep have passed away : 
The time when the gray wind, along 
The edge of night, sings human song ; 
And the deep chill is clearest felt, 
That Death in awful march has dealt : 
The hour ere sounds of day begin. 
What time Death walks most widely in : 
When o'er the pale and ashen land. 
In the dim day, upon the sand. 
The fan-like tracings of the feet 
Of Death on earth we yet may meet : 
When the last stars, the tired eyes 
Of night, fade 'neath the morning skies, 
And closed by eyelids of dawn's fire, 
29 




A PRAYER 

HOU comest, fairer than the 
night 

That heals the wound of day ; 

Breathing from thy spirit sleep, 

Dreamlike and fair and free. 
Lending to ray doubting heart 
Dear hope of life with thee. 
O had I words from angel mouths, 
Thou might my prayer receive ; 
For naught of earth, sweet love, can tell 
The smallest part of thee. 



28 



Before the breaking day retire : 
Then from the far, faint heaven's blue, 
The first bird wakes creation new. 



30 



.^^^ y 










THY COMING IN THE NIGHT 

WAKING from some dream 

of thee, 
Unwillingly torn from a far 
And unremembered life with 
thee, 

I saw the forests of the night 
In her low hours unbar. Borne up 
Reluctant from the pool of sleep, 
I gazed on the uncolored dark, 
Till, like the bursting of the sky 
Of Hell, —behold, the wall of night 
Was of a sudden shattered, and 
I saw the black wings of darkness 
Uplifted by thy fair white hands ; 
And o'er my bed, stealing unheard 
Through the mist of night, I felt thee bend. 
Ah, sweet, thy coming gave me then 
Long-lost and curious knowledge ; 
Once more those magic sounds I knew. 
Of things first heard, which fall but to 
31 



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-ficn 



The child upon his mother's breast, — 
Those fading sounds beyond the world 

of now, 
Which, always to the aged ear, 
Are but the footfalls striking fire 
Of a lone horseman of the night. 
Yet to the child are infinite. 
Hearing such sounds, then to my nostrils 
Came the odor of strange flowers. 
Far sweeter than violets born 
In the deep forests of the world. 
Drenched in thy scattered hair, which is 
Fairer than all the rain of God, 
O'er me I felt thy glory pour; 
And as a parched weed drinks in 
The miracle of rain. 
So from thy falling hair I drank. 
To give my blinded eyes the strength 
Of opening, and beholding thee. 



32 



A NIGHTMARE 



tt 



ISS me, dear, ere now I diej 

For, my love, I thought thee 
dead. 

I dreamed I fought 

The moaning wind 
Far out upon a plain. 
Amid low trees and stones; 
And found thee white 
And still upon the ground. 
Thy fair feet lapped 
By all the waters of the world. 
Which, serving for the tears of God, 
Made their obeisance to thee. 
And, gently flowing by thy side. 
Drank in with myriad liquid mouths 
Thy warm, sweet blood. 



33 



AVE COMETA 



""^^Ml 






LORIOUS is thy pathway 
Through the stars of fire, 
For a port that hath no 

reaching, 
With a speed that cannot tire. 



Tell me, Comet, He who launched thee, 
Doth He love a man in pain. 
Smaller than the glowing dust 
In thy wake of flaming mane? 
Comet fearful, will He save me, — 
He who plays with such as thee? 



34 



y 




LET THERE BE NO CHANGE 

IHROUGH the postern 

All must enter, 

I And alone the ghost return, 

Oft have I wondered 
Shall I find thee 
In that mystery of the dead ? 

Will each hand so tender. 
And thine eyes of glory, 
Thee to me unchanged render? 

For every difference in thee. 
No matter how very small it be, 
Would make a hell for me. 



35 



I^ 



THE WINDOW OF SLEEP 

|OT e'en with the flash of the 

lightning 
|May'st thou the dream depth 

scan; 



)#1 



iFor a barrier lofty and deep 



Are the bars of awaking that span 
The window of sleep. 



36 



THOU ART MY LIGHT 

[S from the boundless space, 

the light of stars, 
In mystery, falls upon this 

earth of ours ; 
So, from thy soul, thine eyes' 
deep, tender light 
Descends to me, enwrapt in darkest 
night. 




37 



VAIN SPEECH 

WEET, how can I express 
Or give of love to thee? 
For, bounded with thy glory, 
Naught of my soul is free. 
Nor golden of the sunset. 

Nor red of dawn at sea, 

Nor all the stars in heaven 

Can paint the form of thee. 




38 



THE WIND SPEAKS TO HER 

NDER the stars she lay, 
And unto her, softly. 
The night wind whispered : — 
" O, thou, so fair, so pure, 
so good ; 
Thou, so stately, yet so tender. 
And so queenly, yet so elfin, 
Wilt thou to me thy secret render, 
And to me thine eyes surrender. 
Of thy world beyond the sky wall. 
What thou seest beyond the stars?" 




39 




CHANGE 

AWOKE upon the ocean, 
On the patient, toiling sea, 
And all alone without thee. 
With the waters round me 
dripping. 
With the waves about me lapping. 
In the wasteness of the sea. 

And the moon did build a pathway 
O'er the rolling wall of sea. 
By that silver path I sought thee, 
With the waters round me dripping. 
And the waves about me lapping. 
In the thunder of the sea. 

Nor path need build the moonbeam. 
Nor wall can make the sea; 
For now thou art beside me. 
With the waters round us dripping, 
With the waves about us lapping, 
In the glory of the sea. 
40 



ifmi tiiiimiiTM i Hiimmiiin i 




THE MYSTIC 

EEPER than thought or 

sleep, 
This, this alone, I know : 
Though the great stars be 
shattered. 

And wide all the world be scattered, 

In me the kingdom is; 

Within I live 

Eternity and time. 

No deed of wrong, 

Nor path ill taken, 

Nor fate can blast 

What is the all 

And love, though brief. 

And falling 

Like the withered leaf. 

Dies not beyond recalling; 

And in my coiling 

Flight 

Through life to death, 
41 



njiiitniiiMU! IN iiHiiiirmnimmimin 






Then far beyond, 

Must yet return again, 

And be renewed. 

Not as the fading 

Life in dreams, 

Which is deep-barred 

And gray — like ashes 

Is ever blasted 

By the cloud awaking; 

But lived once more 

All glowing warm. 

As the unknown to-morrow 

Here flames from the life of now. 

Though knowing 

Nothing, 

This I know : 

Whatever befall. 

My lifetime but swift lightning is; 

Beyond is all. 



42 



MY LITTLE GIRL 




HOU art the spirit, 
The angel of life. 
Thou art the being 
That leadest through death. 
I love thee, dear, ' 



As God in life; 
I love thee, still, 
As hope in death. 
And more than all — 
My little girl. 



43 



WHITHER? 

HITHER, whither, from the 

world, 
If I fly, will lead to thee, — 
Where the stars of fire wander 
In the ether's boundless sea? 
Or in lands that have existence 
Like the fading coast of dreams. 
Where no law of nature trammels, 
And but spirit starlight gleams? 




44 




WHERE ART THOU? 

WEETHEART, whither 
hast thou entered 

That in vain I seek to find 
thee? 

In that shadow — more than 
dreamland — 
Tell me of the spells that bind thee. 
Sadly through the night I listen 
For some wind to waft thy voice 
Where enchanted moonbeams glisten, 
Ere the morrow balk my choice 
With a dagger swift to sever 
All that chains me to this shore; 
Beyond in sleep to dream forever, 
Or in life to love thee more. 



45 



THE WIND 

IKE the cry of one in sorrow. 
Hark, the wind is calling 
O'er the dark forest fringe, 
Where the pale starlight's 
falling : 

' Sweet, I loved thee,'* — hear it say; 

' And now thou 'rt gone," — 't is wailing. 




46 



AUTUMN 




ARE rock of gray, 
Cold autumn air, 
And silent scudding cloud, 
And leaves in the sunset rai- 
ment of your death. 
Fair red and yellow gold, 
Thou givest me wondrous knowledge, — 
A knowledge deeper than the ways of 

men. 
Fast fleeting at their touch. 
And vanishing as soon must thou, white 

cloud; 
A knowledge glorious as thy color, dying 

leaves, 
Vaster than all lands and seas 
That thou enfoldest, fading air, 
And deeper than the earth 
That bears thee, — rock of gray ! 



47 



THE SONG OF NATURE 

AN ST thou hear the song of 

Nature 
Sung by every tiny creature? 
How they vie among each 
other 

That the one surpass the other 
That he may perfection be, 
And so, blessed, become like thee ! 




^ 



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PARTED 




WHY hast thou left me 
To sink in the night? 



The gray wind hath called me, 
And gathered me quite, 
And the great world is cold 
and bereft of thy light. 

Dear, what gateway unbars 
That thou com'st not at all? 
Hast thou fled to the stars 
That thou hear'st not my call? 
For the earth is all silent and black like 
a pall. 



Sweet, of thy glory 
I drank in the dawning. 
Sweetest, thy memory 
Slays me with longing. 
May not a word of 
mourning? 




thee lessen my 



49 





The air, which erewhile 
Breathed low with thy voice, 
Now fans me with subtle 
Rank poisonous choice — 
To live in thine absence, or in death to 
rejoice. 



50 



THE SLEEP OF DEATH 

TRANGE Sleep of Death, 
What are thy dreams? 
I feel thy breath, 
Thy dagger gleams. 
The light grows dim, 

As slowing blood 

Through chilling Hmb 

Doth end its flood. 




51 



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&■ 



REGRET 



H, would that from this night, 

sweet, 
My voice could lift to thee, 
For the night doth bring re- 
gret, sweet, 



Of some small thing unsaid, — 
W^id ^^^^ finger-touch forgotten, 
H[lf A kiss that ne'er was real, 
Tjl|y| A lost glance of thine eyes, sweet. 

Some odor of thy hair; 

The whisper of thy breath, sweet. 

The heaven of thy lips. 

And all the thrilling whiteness 

Of thy two perfect feet ; 

The harbor of thy arms, dear. 

The healing of thy hands, — 

Yea, all that mystic firmament 

Of miracle of thee. 



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IS IT WELL WITH HER? 

NGEL child, so far away, 
Free from Nature's changeful 

sway. 
Tell me, art thou warm to- 
night? 

Whisper, burns thy candle bright, 
By thy bed, of cumber free, 
Holy in the joy of thee? 

Sweet, my darling, hearest thou 
Steps of Him who guards thee now. 
Crowned and armed before thy door. 
Sentinel of Death's far shore? 
Child, His face is kind, I know, 
Though His deeds in mystery flow. 



53 



THY HAIR 




T is a forest 
Of shadows 
And golden vines : 
Even a crown — 
More gloried than 



The piteous thorns 
That wreathed in pain 
The Head of Christ : 
A whispering wood, 
A magic veil, 
Wherein all pale 
World- wearied eyes 
Would flee the dust 
Of hurried earth 
More utterly 
Than in the deep 
And flawless 
Sleep of death. 
It is thy chapel, 
Whose fretted shutters 
54 



Fall and outbar 
The faintest gleam 
Of mortal day, — 
That within its 
Curiously 
Woven walls 
Thou mayst thine own 
Pure light create. 



65 



LofC. 




SHADOW LAND 

HERE is a world where noon 

is night, 
Where from dark leaves the 

slanted light 
iTurns, with cold overwhelming 
might, 
The heart to fear and dread. 

There the twigs and branches break, 
The sods with lifeless footfalls quake, 
And, gliding by the leaflets, rake 
The garments of the dead. 



66 




SUNRISE AT SEA 

HEN the first flaming limb 

Of the great star of day 

Is born in the East, 

It is the signal 

For the channels of the sea 

To open most widely ; 

The hour for the ghosts 

Of those once drowned 

To wander on the sea : 

And when all seaworn things 

Rise from cool wells of flame, 

And bathe in the wind of dawn : 

It is the time of all 

The day and night 

When songs are heard 

From other worlds ; 

For then the feet of sound 

Most subtly run. 

Angel, though then I have thee not, 

It is the hour when I am nearest thee. 
67 




FAIR EARTH, FAREWELL 

AIR Earth, farewell, 
Kiss me good-bye. 
Ere yet, beyond thy breath, 
To Heaven or Hell I fly. 

If Heaven my harborage be, 
May it not prove too unlike thee. 

Or, if Hell be the place, 
Let not the fury 
Of its fires quite efface, 
Dear Earth, thy memory. 



68 



DEATH? 




THE racing sea ! 
" What is death? *' he cried. 
*' It goes and comes like me," 
Answered the throbbing tide. 



O the mysterious night ! 
" What is death? " he asked ; 
And a voice in the dark spoke: 
"'Tis life unmasked." 

"Is death like thee?" 

O the fallen snow ! 

" Yea, cold and still like me," 

Breathed the whitened floe. 



Then, O, of the earth 
He did solution crave ; 
And the earth answered 
"It is the grave." 

59 



"Death, art thou sleep?" he cried, 
O the voice of Death afar : 
" Yea, I am sleep," repUed, 
^^Yet love shall my gate unbar," 



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